Time
by Not-a-fanatic-just-a-fan
Summary: He was given a curse. Now he must live with that curse and hunt down the one that gave it to him. But is that really living? One-shots are hard. It started out as a single document but then... made babies or something. Rated T because... umm... I don't even know. It's super tame.
1. Chapter One: The Curse

It was a one-shot plot bunny but was getting too long. So it's completely written but I've split it up to several chapters. Reviews are nice. It's an AU but it will make more sense, the further into the story you go.

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing about Bleach. Although if I did, I would have a live sized pushie of my favorite captain. 10 guesses who.

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 **Chapter One: The Curse**

"Do you realize now? Maybe next time you'll remember this moment and realize how pitiful and naïve you are to think that you could ever hope to defeat me." The towering figure robed in darkness and shadows loomed over the small boy with dark gravity-defying hair, blood pooling beneath him from the massive wound in his side.

The figure in black bent down to examine the boy. His breaths were short and rattling, unable to fully extend his lungs due to damage he had received in the fight. But his teal eyes were blazing with anger, glaring at the darkened face with such fury that anyone with a weaker constitution would have cowered in fear. The man smiled.

"You have fire in you still, boy, even at the very brink of death. I applaud your bravery." He reached a bony hand down and grabbed a fistful of the boy's yukata, ignoring the whimpers of pain, and effortlessly pulled the boy up so that he head was level with the man's. His feet were dangling a good two meters from the ground.

The pain was so intense that he couldn't even attempt to struggle, every breath, every twitch sending bolts of pain throughout his whole body. His vision was blurry and slowly darkening around the edges.

"I was simply going to kill you, squash you like the bug you are. Honestly, your attack was like a fly bumping against my skin. It wasn't even comical."

The man tilted his head to the side, examining the rapidly paling boy in his grasp, oblivious to the blood dripping down the small body, adding to the large pool.

"You know, I think I won't kill you. For someone so young to have attacked me head on, there must be something more to you. Maybe in a few hundred years or so you might register as more than a bug. Probably not." It was clear to anyone watching (not that anyone was) that this man was talking more to himself than to the boy.

"Yeah. I won't kill you. But humans don't live long enough for you to ever hope to amount to anything. Especially with that wound." The man looked at the wound.

He reached up his other hand and jabbed it inside the wound up to his wrist. The boy's eyes widened and a choking sound came out of his lips before his eyes rolled back in his head and the last bit of tension left his body.

The man slowly withdrew his now blood-soaked hand, revealing the ethereal green glow around it. The wound had stopped bleeding, as the man watched, the skin reformed, knitting back together till there was nothing left except slightly pink skin surrounded by bloodstained skin.

"Yes, I'll have to do something about that age thing. Even if you are incredibly lucky, you won't live to be a hundred. Humans have such short life-spans. How they get anything accomplished is simply beyond me."

The man placed his bloody palm on the newly formed skin of the unconscious boy. His dark eyes glittered and his hand glowed again, this time a white-blue glow. This lasted for a few seconds then died away. The man dropped his hand, and underneath the blood handprint he had left, there was now a black mark that resembled a twisting dragon with giant wings. Its mouth was open in a silent roar.

"Live on. I want to see what happens to you. Maybe you can answer my question." He dropped the boy, not bothering to even lower him a little before letting go. The boy fell in an ungraceful heap, his limp muscles preventing him from breaking anything in the fall.

And without a second glance, the man walked away, blending in with the shadows until he disappeared.

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Stay tuned. I'll update every now and then. There are five chapters. Already written so I'm actually not lying this time. Shocker, I know.


	2. Chapter Two: A Book's Cover

Reminder: No Shinigami or Soul Society. Still AU.

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 **Chapter Two: A Book's Cover**

Captain Hitsugaya Toushirou of the distinguished Gotei 13 sat at his desk, mindlessly doing paperwork while munching on amanatto, his teal eyes lazily surveying the form, a lock of his snow-white hair falling over his forehead.

"Captain~!" Matsumoto Rangiku bounced into the office, her large and mostly exposed bosom bouncing with her. To a normal, healthy male, regardless of age for the most part, this would have been very distracting. But Hitsugaya had a lot of practice as not being distracted by anything.

"What is it, Matsumoto?" He asked, not even looking up from the form he was reading. He popped another sugared bean in his mouth.

"You know, I'll never know how someone as young as you likes such an old person candy." She shook her head, her strawberry-blond locks flowing like waves in the sea.

"Candy is not for any specific age-group." He said tonelessly. "People of all ages like all kinds of candies. Would say that an old man enjoying a lollipop would be eating a young person candy?"

Matsumoto thought for a moment. "Probably." She shrugged and Hitsugaya rolled his eyes.

"What do you need, Matsumoto? Or are you just here to talk about the various age groups of candy?"

She giggled. "You are so silly Captain! No, I came to tell you that there's this weird picture that's been going around Seireitei. Apparently someone in the 6th division was assigned to clean out part of their archives that no one goes into anymore, stuff from hundreds of years ago, and he found an old hand painting of someone who looks just like you! And it's a really good painting too!"

She was using her arms to prop herself up as she leaned over his desk, not noticing or not caring that she was exposing more of herself to the miniature Captain.

"Great." He dead-panned. "You found a picture of me from hundreds of years ago. You discovered my secret. I'm actually a several-hundred-year-old man stuck in a boy's body."

Rangiku tipped her head back and laughed. "People don't believe me when I tell them you're funny. All they see is your serious side. Only Momo and I get to see your funny side."

She smiled warmly down at him, realizing what an honor it was for her to be one of the two people that he relaxed around. "So, do you want to see the picture?"

"Not if it involves me going anywhere." He said in the same monotone voice. He quickly signed the form he was reading before picking up another. Paperwork was the one constant in his life, he thought to himself.

"Don't worry, I've got it right here!" She pulled out a rolled up piece of vellum parchment, yellowed and cracked with age but she didn't seem to realize just how much she was mishandling it. She unrolled it with a flourish, dramatically shouting "Voilà!"

Toushirou glanced up and his own teal eyes stared back at him. The color was remarkable well-preserved. No doubt having been stuck in an airtight container for a hundred years or so. The painting was a dramatization of a young boy fighting against masked monsters, his katana as long as he was, a determined expression on his face. A white dragon with large wings was in the background, obviously giving the imagery that the boy was dragon-like. The only difference between the young captain and the boy in the painting was that his hair was completely white, while the boy's was a dark gray, streaks of white running through it.

"Fascinating. Now return it to the 6th division before I get in trouble for letting you carelessly destroy a very old drawing."

Rangiku pouted. "Aww, captain, you're no fun." But she did carefully roll the painting back up, heading back to the 6th.

When she closed the door, Toushirou set down the form that he had been pretending to read, clasping his hands together, his elbows propped up on the desk.

He had forgotten about that painting. It was nothing more than a propaganda piece, a poster copied out by the hundreds and stuck all over the city, but it had been during a dark time when the people needed a figure to believe in. He had posed for the artist, a young girl who was too sickly to go out so she spent her time painting the world.

 _If I can't go out to the world, I'll bring the world to me!_ She used to say.

His hand drifted down to his left side, where a dragon tattoo was branded on his skin, the sign of a curse for apparent immortality.

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Make more sense now? Three more chapters to go. Reviews make me happy! Happy writer means more updates!


	3. Chapter Three: Journey of a 1000 Miles

Another snapshot of his life. Reviews means more snapshots!

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 **Chapter Three: Journey of a 1000 Miles**

A young teenager with spiky white hair strolled down the streets, his hands in his pockets, his teal eyes not really seeing anything around him. Cars zoomed past him, blaring horns and blasting 'music'. He didn't understand modern music. It all sounded the same to him and had no talent at all. He couldn't even call it music.

Suddenly, a soccer ball rolled down the hill on his left. He instinctively stopped it with his foot before it rolled into the street. He used hit foot to bounce it up grabbing it with a hand. He looked back up the hill and saw a girl, maybe a year or two younger than him, wearing gym shorts and a sports jersey. She was holding a tattered bag used for holding large sports balls.

"Thanks!" She smiled and walked over to him, her dark eyes twinkling with some kind of inner fire. "I thought for a second that my ball was a goner! You've got some pretty good reflexes." She complimented him, taking back the offered ball.

He shrugged, not bothering to reply back. He kept walking, thinking their discussion was over.

"So I've never seen you at school before. You don't look very much older than me." Inwardly he laughed.

"Graduated."

"Really! Cool! You must be pretty smart to have already graduated when you're so young!" She was holding the ball underneath one arm, walking beside him, still smiling. He glanced at her. Why was she still following him? She must want something.

"So what do you do know that you're graduated?" He shrugged.

"Then, are you busy?" Here it comes. People are so predictable. He shrugged again.

"Great!" She apparently interpreted his shrug to fit her needs. "My friends and I are having some trouble with some middle-schoolers. We have this bet against them. If we win a soccer game, we get to use the field. If they win, we can't ever use the field again. The only problem is that my friends don't have any confidence so they want me to find someone who can help. And I think you can!"

Her statement was met with silence, as he continued to walk, staring blankly ahead. He was forced to stop as she suddenly ran in front of him, a determined look in her eyes.

"Look, it's just for one game. First to 5. It'll be this Saturday at 4. Please come. We're kind of desperate. I won't bother you again." Her eyes were pleading with him. She had very expressive eyes.

He paused for a second, observing her eyes, before walking around her.

"So you'll come?"

"Who knows?"

* * *

Saturday, he somehow found himself walking towards the soccer field. He had no idea why. Probably because he was bored. Maybe because he liked seeing that girl's expressive eyes. He wouldn't try anything. He was much too old, even if he didn't look it. And it would always end the same way.

He was late, and the game was already in full swing. However, the second the girl had seen him, she called for a time-out. She quickly ran over. To his well-trained eye, he realized that her knee was injured. Probably from a dirty trick by the older boys that physically matched Toushirou's age. They had that sleezy look about them. Her friends just looked like idiots. And they were down, 3 to nothing.

"You came!" Despite her injury, she was smiling happily. Her eyes spoke of hope and fire. He shrugged.

"Sweet! Now this game is in the bag!" Her friends looked dubious but she was the obvious leader and ignored their doubt. He shrugged again.

"Player change!" She signaled to one of the boys, who obediently trotted up, giving his spot to the newcomer. She grinned as they walked back out on the field. "Thanks for coming. I knew I could count on you."

He had a brief memory of other people saying similar things in other types of fields flash through his mind. He shook it away. It was game time.

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They finished with an easy 5 to 3 in favor of the girl's team. They had tried to get Toushirou to join in their group celebratory hug, but he easily dodged it.

He walked away from the field, having completed his mission. He was stopped again as the girl called out to him.

"Hey! Hey, wait! Oi! Kid!" He stopped annoyed. He didn't like it when people called him kid.

She grinned when he stopped, ignoring his glare.

"I just realized that I don't know your name. I'm Kurosaki Karin, by the way." She held out her hand for him to shake. For a moment, he debated ignoring it and walking away. Instead he reached out and grasped it with his own calloused hand.

"Hitsugaya Toushirou."

Her smiled widened. "Pleasure to meet you Toushirou."

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I can't not write a HitsuKarin. I'm in love with them. They _are_ my OTP.


	4. Chapter Four: The End

**Chapter Four: The End**

A figure, more shadow and darkness than man stood in an open field. It was devoid of any type of life, dust and smoke blowing across the wasteland.

Across from him, a man with spiky white hair and teal eyes stood, a long katana strapped to his back. The white-haired man looked to be in his early twenties.

"I've waited a long time for this day." The shadowy figure said nothing. "Do you remember me?"

The 'head' tilted to the side, as if just now registering that the man was speaking, or even there.

"Probably not." Toushirou kept talking, despite getting no response. "You aren't that kind of being. You don't remember bugs. I remember you. I was just a child. It was a millennium ago. I tried to attack you for killing my family. You almost killed me too. But you didn't." Toushirou slid his katana out and held it at the ready.

"For a long time, I wondered why. Why did you spare me? Why did you curse me, mark me? I realized a while ago, that it didn't matter. What mattered was that you did. And since that night, I have trained my entire life, discovering abilities that normal people can't even fathom. I never stopped training, never stopped trying to be better. It helps that people are so prone to wars. I get a lot of practice in."

The figure had straightened its head, still silent.

"Sorry for talking so much. It's been a while since I've talked to another person. And even longer since I dreamed of this day. I don't know if I'll win. But I'll give it everything. Because one or both of us _will_ die in the battle."

Then Toushirou ran forward, katana swinging.

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If anyone had watched the battle, they would have unanimously agreed that it was the most epic battle in the history of the world. It lasted for days, weeks, who knew?

If anyone had watched the battle, they would have died, caught in the cross-fire.

At the end, there was a single figure sitting on the ground, another figure lying dead at his feet. A long katana stabbed through his body, anchoring him to the desolate ground. The dead body's shirt had ridden up a little, revealing a bloodied tattoo of a twisting dragon, its mouth opened wide in a silent roar. The living figure stood up after a few moments and walked away, blending into the shadows until he completely disappeared.

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I'm pretty sure I'm evil. I love angsty stories that involve Toushirou. The abuse that he suffers at my fingertips.


	5. Chapter Five: Because I Can

I guess I'm only a little evil. You peoples are so spoiled.

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 **Because I Can**

The sounds of the city were very familiar by this point. Eons of life had acquainted him to human communal dwellings. It was night but the light pollution made it impossible to see anything beyond the floating neon banners or air traffic. Humans had abandoned ground traffic almost 200 years ago.

A figure in shadows made his way through the city, ignoring the nicer and brighter parts for the dark and run-down parts, neighborhoods that even bad people didn't travel to. Because at least they still had their humanity.

A pair of eyes peered at the figure as he strode through the alleyway. The eyes didn't even try to attack the figure. Some primal self-preservation instinct warned him against the seemingly harmless figure.

A long-forgotten and completely abandoned building stood in front of him. He effortlessly lifted the solid steel door that was used for delivery trucks. Not that there was anyone in living memory who even remembered when cars used to hover on the ground.

He passed under the door, letting it drop behind him with a loud bang. The warehouse was dirty and beady eyes of rats could be seen in the dark corners. The figure walked with confidence in the darkness, long used to seeing without any light. But for the sake of what he was about to do, he reached for a switch connected to a single large light, illuminating a large metal casket looking machine hooked up to a large old-fashioned generator. The rats and other beings of the darkness burrowed away from the sudden light.

He pressed a button and a computer screen came to life, taking a minute to warm up before it revealed a black screen with a blinking curser in the upper right corner. A few well-practiced keystrokes and lines of computer code were now covering the screen. When the man was done, he paused for a half-second, before quickly pressing 'enter.'

The generator got louder as it started to work harder. The casket-looking machine started to beep and make loud thunking noises. The man simple stared at the casket.

A solid hour later of loud noises and beeps, the sound winded down. The man stepped up next to the casket. He pressed a red button on the side and the top of it opened with a pneumatic hiss, just like a casket. Icy smoke billowed out, preventing a visual of the contents of the casket.

When it cleared away, it revealed a young woman, in her early twenties perhaps, with short black hair, lying on the white gel mold in a white hospital-gown like robe. She looked like she was sleeping.

The man waited. He had learned how to wait.

30 minutes later, the woman took a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes fluttered open, the midnight eyes glazed over. There was another few minutes as she blinked repeatedly, her eyes slowly coming into focus again.

Another minute before a groan sounded from her lips. She lay there, trying to make her mouth, tongue, and vocal chords all work together like they used to. Finally, she slowly turned her head slightly to her right, looking up at the man who had stood silently over her as she regained her ability to see and talk.

A slow smile appeared on her face, muscles stiff from a long time of unused.

"…It's… over?" she asked, her voice raspy and soft, only audible in the silence of the warehouse.

He nodded.

Her grin widened. "I'm… healed?"

Another nod.

Her hand twitched until she forced it out of its gel mold, too weak to hold it up, letting it hang over the edge of her once-casket. He got the intent and reached out one of his own calloused hands, gently taking in her thin and cold hand in his.

"I'm… glad… Toushirou…"

Ice-blue eyes softened as she whispered his name.

"Me too."

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I was going to have an angsty end where he just continued the cycle, cursing some other poor soul that caught his attention. But I'm a sucker for happy endings.

Thanks for sticking with! Some last little reviews to let me know how I did or what you enjoyed or what I could change or do better would be great! Love ya!


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